


Come on, breathe again

by EmmaArthur



Series: Whumptober 2019 [22]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex needs a hug, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bullying, High School, Jesse Manes is a War Crime, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Michael Needs a Hug, Referenced Suicide Attempt, They Understand Each Other, Whumptober, referenced abuse, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 08:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21176507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaArthur/pseuds/EmmaArthur
Summary: Sequel to The lights will not catch you.A month after the end of camp, it's time to go back to school for Alex, but he's in for a surprise.





	Come on, breathe again

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober day 15: **Humiliation**.
> 
> This went pretty far off prompt, because I intended to have a pretty bad bullying scene with Kyle but decided to spare myself and you the unpleasantness.
> 
> Title is from another Tokio Hotel song, Übers Ende der Welt.
> 
> [suicide ideation, referenced abuse, bullying, suicide attempt]

“Alex!”

Alex only has a second's warning before Liz barrels into him, hugging him tightly. He flinches, and he wants to fight her, but he doesn't. He's gotten bigger, sometime in the last year when he wasn't looking, and he doesn't want to risk hurting her. He just stands there uncomfortably.

Maria catches his eyes over Liz's shoulder, and her look is sad and apologetic. Alex hasn't seen either of them in three months, and this isn't a pleasant reunion.

They're in the middle of a busy school corridor, for one, which is easily one of Alex's least favorite places in the world. There are new kids looking around in awe, and at least half their class is by the lockers, reuniting. Alex quickly locates Kyle among them, and looks away before their eyes can meet. The last thing he needs right now is more taunting.

Given that Liz spent half of last year glued to Kyle's side and is now in his arms, though, Alex has little hope to avoid it.

“It's been so long!” Liz exclaims, pulling away. “How are you doing?”

Her face turns serious at that, and Alex knows she's heard. Maria probably told her, since her and Mimi came to see him in the hospital, but he suspects most of the school knows by now. He's been dreading this day for the whole month he just spent locked in his bedroom, since coming back from camp.

“I'm fine,” he mutters.

Liz's eyes go down to his wrist, which is hidden inside a leather bracelet, larger than his usual ones. So she knows even that, Alex sighs internally.

“I've missed you,” she says.

Alex doesn't answer, just giving her a doubtful look. They barely spoke for six months before he dropped out of school last year. That was her choice. Oh, she tried to remain his friend, but it was kind of hard to do when she wouldn't leave Kyle's side, and Kyle couldn't stop bullying Alex. He still doesn't get what Liz sees in him.

No, that's not true. He gets, perfectly well, what Liz sees in handsome, popular sports-obsessed Kyle Valenti. What he doesn't get is why Liz still tries to pretend she's Alex's friend.

Maria doesn't hug Alex. She starts to, but she sees him take a step back, so she drops her arms with an understanding smile. Their relationship has suffered from all this too, but Maria has somehow managed to remain friends with everyone, and she's always understood Alex better than Liz. His father even let her visit a couple of times over the summer, maybe in hopes that Alex would eventually fall for her−or at least pretend to. Alex let him think what he wanted.

“It's good to see you,” Maria murmurs in his ear. “I know this is hard, but I've got your back, okay?”

Alex nods gratefully.

The girls flank him to their first class, which they all have together, and Alex finds a little hope in that. Maybe, however betrayed he felt by Liz dating Kyle, their friendship isn't completely beyond repair.

He's not completely sure why he even cares. Having people in his corner would make his life easier, but in the long term, it doesn't matter, does it?

Alex realizes suddenly that in the months since he cut his wrist open, no one has asked him if he regrets that he didn't succeed. No one has asked if he wants to try again. His father ordered him not to, like that's going to change anything, and everyone else just acted like it was some kind of accident that would never happen again.

Even this little bit of agency has been denied to him.

Except...there was Michael, that day at camp. They never spoke about it again−they barely spoke again at all−but his words are still engraved in Alex's mind. _I'm kinda glad you failed._

The classroom is noisy and brightly lit and Alex immediately feels a headache coming on. He wants to turn on his heels and run. Maria stays close to him, though, even as Liz goes to sit beside Kyle, and her support is enough to get Alex to sit down and open his bag, if only to have something to do with his hands. He keeps his head down as the other students each find a table.

“Hey, is he new?” Maria asks suddenly.

“Who?” Alex raises his head.

Maria nods to a boy talking with the Evans twins. Alex barely knows Max and Isobel, though they've been in the same class since middle school, but they almost always keep to themselves. Now though, they're both smiling at this boy who has his back to Alex.

A boy with light curly hair and a ratty old white tee-shirt that reminds Alex of−

“Michael!” Isobel Evans shouts in a vaguely offended tone that carries through the classroom. The boy laughs and turns to sit down, as the teacher walks to her desk.

It's Alex's Michael. There's no doubt about it. It's the same smile, the same curls, the same everything. He looks a little less closed off here than he did at camp, but it's him. What the hell is he doing here?

They exchange a few looks and a single nod through the day. Michael sits with the Evans in every class and for lunch, and Maria doesn't leave Alex's side, for which he is extremely thankful. Like he suspected, most of the school knows what happened at the end of last year, including Kyle and his friends. Feeling mean, Alex wonders if Liz was the one who told them.

The taunts are perhaps nastier than they've ever been. To his repertoire of homophobic slurs, Kyle has now added mental illness jokes. Alex does his best to avoid him, him and the shame on Liz's face at his behavior that gives Alex no pleasure. Not anymore.

After lunch, Alex has English along with Kyle, while Liz and Maria are both in History. Kyle decides to sit just in front of Alex's table, and it turns the class into hell. He's trembling and humiliated when he comes out, head down, and goes straight for the bathroom.

Struggling to breathe, he runs his thumb over the scars on his wrist, underneath the bracelet, and tries to convince himself that it's worth it to get through another day. He's done this every day since camp, holding on to the little things. What is there for him?

Maria. She's been here for him this morning. She's one of the few−the only person Alex knows for sure would mourn him. He can try harder for her. At least another day. Maybe tomorrow, the knot in his throat will ease and things will be better.

Michael. Alex does want to know how he ended up in Roswell, when last he knew, he was up in Santa Fe at a group home.

_I'm kinda glad you failed._

Alex takes a deep breath, and he walks out of the bathroom. A look at his schedule tells him that he has a free period, so he didn't miss anything. Without really thinking about it, he lets his feet take him to the music room, his old haunt. 

It feels familiar, good, as much as Alex feels anything these days. He runs his hand over the covered piano keys, and drops his bag to the floor, fishing his pocket to take out his iPod.

The door opens, making him jump. Alex looks up, expecting the music teacher, but it's not her. It's Michael.

“Didn't think I'd find you there,” he says, leaning on the door jamb. 

“What are you doing here?” Alex asks.

“Got lost. I'm supposed to have...AP Physics, somewhere.”

“That's on the other side of the building,” Alex frowns. “But I meant, what are you doing in Roswell?”

They haven't had any contact since camp. Neither of them have a cellphone at the moment−Alex's father refused to replace the one Kyle crushed, and he hasn't saved up enough to buy a new one yet. Not that he really had anyone to text. They exchanged email addresses, but Alex hasn't been allowed on the Internet since before he cut his wrist, and Michael warned that his own access would be spotty at best.

They didn't think they would ever see each other again, not after they got caught kissing by a monitor on the third night. Camp turned into a nightmare, after that, and Alex's return home was even worse.

But Michael is right here, standing in front of him.

“New foster family,” he explains. “Not the best I've ever had, but it got me back here.”

“You're from here?”

“Sort of. I was found in the desert with my siblings when we were seven.”

“Wait,” Alex gapes. “The Evans? You're their brother?”

Michael nods.

“But then why aren't you−”

“They got adopted, I didn't,” Michael says. 

“Shit,” Alex mutters.

“I'm just glad they had it easier.”

Then he's a better person than Alex. Alex averts his eyes, thinking of every time he was jealous of Liz or Maria, or even Kyle, for having parents who loved them.

“No, actually, that's not true,” Michael says, with a strange light in his eyes. “I'm jealous as fuck. But they don't need to know that.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

Michael bites his lower lip. “I don't know. Talking to you is easy. Like...we understand each other.”

Alex nods once. They do seem to understand each other. They stay silent for a moment, strangely comfortable.

“You play?” Michael asks after a while, gesturing to the music instruments around them.

“I did,” Alex answers. He left his guitar here for the summer, since he didn't go back to school after the hospital. He's sort of glad, because his father might have smashed it in one of his rages. He didn't touch the guitar Flint left behind when he enlisted last years. He just doesn't have it in him anymore.

“The piano?” Michael asks. Alex is sitting on the piano stool, so it's a fair assumption.

“A little, but mostly the guitar. I played a bit of everything, the cello too. I was in the choir in sophomore year. Last year I just hung out here anytime I didn't have a class.”

“What about now?”

Alex shrugs. “I haven't played anything in months,” he says. “It's been−”

“Too much?” Michael guesses.

“Something like that.”

“I've been trying to learn the guitar, but it's slow-going. I don't have my own, and I've never been in a school with a proper music room before.”

“Then what did you do?” Alex asks.

“Memorize finger placements, mostly. My old home had this one battered guitar in a closet, so I would steal it to play when no one was there to hear. I can show you if you want. You can give me tips.”

“I don't want to play,” Alex shakes his head. He hasn't touched a guitar in months for a reason. Music used to be the one thing that made him feel alive.

He doesn't want to feel alive. It hurts too much.

“I didn't ask you to play,” Michael says with a sweet smile. 

It's irresistible. Alex groans and stands up to get his guitar from the closet. He hands it to Michael.

Michael sits down on another stool and slips the guitar sling over his head.  He places his left hand carefully, like a beginner, and starts playing.

Alex recognizes the song after only a few measures.

“Tokio Hotel? Really?”

Michael gives him that blinding smile again. “I couldn't stop thinking of you,” he says. “Wanna sing along? I'm only gonna butcher the German.”

Alex can't help it. He smiles back, and leans over to correct the position of Michael's left hand. His sense of rhythm is pretty good, but his form is all over the place.

“You need lessons,” he says.

“I need a teacher,” Michael murmurs in his ear, before Alex can lean back.

“Just play,” Alex tries to be stern. 

Michael strums the guitar again, licking his lips. Alex's heart skips a beat.

“_Wir sind durch die Stadt gerannt,_” he sings hesitantly, for the first time in four months. (_We've ran through the city.) _Michael looks up to give him an encouraging look, and immediately loses his finger position. Alex laughs softly.

Maybe teaching Michael to play the guitar could be a good reason to live through another day.

**Author's Note:**

> The song line is also from Übers Ende der Welt, like the title. This throws me really far back.
> 
> What did you think?


End file.
